Gravity
by PeechTao
Summary: Clint Barton is commissioned to make the one impossible shot needed to save the human race. In this dramatic clash where DC and Marvel combine, this story is set in the very end of the recent Superman release. Clint is taken from the Avengers to fly the plane laden with Superman's device, attempting to stop the terraform device. What happens in the wake, is the pure loss of hope.
1. Chapter 1

**_SPECIAL NOTE!: this is also a CROSSOVER! whoa, lookout. i have some major end-of-movie Superman spoilers in this so i hope you've seen that already. Now, i have changed the ending up a bit to fit my needs, but the essence is there. i hope you love the very dark depths i've taken this!_**

* * *

**Gravity Part 1  
**

_by, PeechTao_

_"We can't help at all, can we?"_

_"I'm sorry, we just can't risk anyone getting in close to that terraforming device. We have to believe this man, this Superman, is somehow going to help us."_

_"Does Hawkeye really have to go?"_

_"It's an impossible shot. And we only have one chance to make it happen. One bullet to throw at it. We need him. The whole Earth needs him."_

:_:_:

Clint tried to remember the supportive words of his companions as he receded into the back of his mind. He was flying on auto-pilot. Mentally at least. A C-17 was no easy bird to manage and his limited experience with the airbus's handling system was not boosting his confidence in any way. He'd been debriefed for a grand twelve minutes in the time it took him to leave the SHIELD fortress in New Mexico and arrived at the NSA headquarters in the midst of the desert. The alien payload had already been stocked onto the deck of the plane and was awaiting only the clearance to fly from the base command. Behind the yoke of that pivitol mission was none other than Agent Clint Barton. There was no better marksman on the planet that the US government knew of. If this really was an impossible shot at an alien space craft, Clint was uniquely qualified to make it count.

He'd heard a woman's voice as the rocky flight had her heels clicking across the floor of the cabin. Who she was mattered little in retrospect but supposing Clint may be curious, Colonel Hardy felt it necessary to fill him in on her status.

"Civilian. Reporter actually. Lois Lane. Has some kind of deal struck up with the alien. She's arming the bomb." Hardy said. The end of his statement had a disjointed air. It was difficult to tell if he was jealous or incredulous.

"A civilian is arming the bomb?" Clint turned away from the front window for a moment with a snap of his neck. "I Thought this was serious? Life and death serious?"

"It is. She's the only one the alien entrusted with the means to arm the device."

Clint bit the inside of his lip to prevent from saying something he shouldn't. He wasn't necessarily among friends here. This wasn't Tony Stark he was barking at or even Natasha. A colonel in the US Army may have enough pull, especially in this very horrible situation, to make sure a subordinate officer just didn't make it out of a situation alive. So he held back his reservations to let his mind work instead.

"She's trustworthy." Hardy said, focusing on his equipment gauges again. "And if not, we're all just going to die anyway."

:_:_:

The screams of the pilots being vaporized, smashed, and blasted to kingdom come reach Clint's headset before the orders from HQ did. There was an initial wave of fighters, an attack brigade of ten strong meant to soften the alien ship with a barrage of missiles that could break a hole wide enough for Clint to deliver the payload and bug out. But they never got close enough. The gravity machine, the Terraform machine and World Maker, had grabbed hold of the missiles like a haywire five-year-old. Metropolis was being laid to waste by the Air Force's own military while the jets that attempted the initial attack were flung across the sky. Clint was still far enough and high enough to miss the sight of the carnage. But he wasn't deaf.

Hardy glanced his way but said nothing.

"Get that bomb armed." Clint said, gripping the stalk a little tighter. They were getting close. He was already decreasing speed and lowering the massive ship down from its cruising altitude.

Hardy relayed the message to the reporter in the back of the C-17. He flipped several switches and brought HQ up on the overhead so Clint and he could both listen in.

"Eagle base, Eagle Base, this is Starliner. Making approach."

The radio crackled and buzzed. Clint continued to drop the skip down through the sky.

_"Roger Starliner, cleared to make a run. Operation First-Go was a futile. I repeat, Operation First-Go was futile. Orders are to set course and evac before reaching the Gravity flux. Relay those orders, over."_

Hardy and Clint exchanged an unnerving glance. Clint was the one who answered the radio message.

"Roger, Operation First-Go futile. Arming Device and leaving payload. Will proceed to manual evac after drop, over."

_"God-Speed, crew."_

Clint switched off the radio altogether. He quipped to Hardy to make sure the device was good and ready to go immediately when he called for it. Hardy called back into the cabin once more to relay the message. The response from Lois and the scientist with her took a little long to come. When it did at least appear, the words were much less than helpful.

Clint gave a disturbed look to Hardy. "Get back there and see what kind of trouble they're having."

Hardy unbuckled himself from the jump seat and moved toward the back of the plane. A second man Clint didn't know sat beside him in the copilot's chair. Clint gave him a slight nod of acknowledgement but that was all. They were nearing the alien ship now. And regardless of all the words in the report he'd been handed only minutes before setting out, nothing could have prepared him for seeing that horrid ship carving scars across the land.

The ship was all sleek ridges and curved lines. It was beautiful in its construction and terrifying in its nuance. Clint felt like he'd seen it all before in a terrible nightmare from the first moment he'd joined the Avengers. But whereas the Chitori had ships of dead, rotting flesh infused with the devices of war, this sight encompassing Metropolis was glorious. Evolved. Intelligent. Dangerous in a way that the Chitori never were. This was not brute force Clint was facing it was sheer otherworldly intelligence and technology.

Clint was beginning to turn in his chair, to shout into the back of the cabin for whatever was keeping the bomb from being armed, to get on with it or die. But he was interrupted by the sudden loss in cabin pressure. The yoke was torn from his hands and Clint clawed against his restraints to grab it again. The C-17 rolled right and stuttered. She threatened to stall, but Clint flipped his emergency switches and lifted the wings flaps to get them altitude again.

Warning claxons rang overhead. Clint punched a button to silence them partly so he had a chance to think. Another shock, like a punch to the ship's belly sent them toppling on their nose. Clint fought against the controls to keep them from crashing into the crumbling city below.

Ahead of them, the alien ship loomed like the harbinger of death. With pulses from its shimmering underbelly the city below was subsequently uprooted from the ground then slammed back into the earth with tremendous volley. Cars, buildings, rubble, and even people floated through the air and after a moment of suspension were flattened as if a mighty fist crushed them. There was a line, an ever increasing one pushing out in a circular wave surrounding the ship. Like a tornado, it was only visible by the debris that it pulled into the air and thumped down again.

The ship lurched onto its side like a whale breaching the ocean surface. It was all Clint could do to keep the bird from completing its rollover and sending the team into the nearest skyscraper. Already the buildings were coming up fast. Too fast. He dropped the flaps to try and steal some altitude but his battle was a losing one. He prepared himself for what was most assuredly going to be a crash landing. Or perhaps, just a crash.

"Get ready to bail out!" He screamed into the intercom, hoping someone in the back of the airbus was still alive to follow instructions. The World Maker ahead of him loomed larger and larger, blotting out the swirling black skies in the ever increasing wave of gravity swells. The hurricane of movement floating up, crashing down, floating up, crashing down...

There was an explosion directly at his back. Clint partially turned in his harness to watch as the cabin door was ripped from its hinges and tossed aside as if it were made of paper mâché. Standing on the other side was an exotic battle worn beauty. The look of murder in her eyes was more than Clint needed to realize the position he was in. This was one of the aliens. She'd compromised the ship. She was here to kill everyone.

Clint unclipped himself from his harness with one hand, letting the yoke fall from his grip as he pulled his side arm and fired a bullet directly through her eye. Then he watched, shocked, as that bullet twisted and folded into itself as it hit the brick wall of her face.

"Ok." He breathed. Unsure of what he should do, Clint grabbed the only thing he had available, which turned out to be an emergency fire extinguisher on the wall. With it he created a temporary shield. It blocked her first glancing blow for his head but did nothing to stop the second which sent him flying into the cockpit windshield. The glass splattered around him, threatening to give way. He pulled himself free but not fast enough to avoid the hand to his throat. The Kryptonian claws dug into him as she lifted and threw him to the back of the cabin.

Clint knew there was nothing he could do to stop this super human. Not alone. He'd done what he came for and that was to set the alien weapon on a collision course. Now was the time to bail out himself before he got killed.

Without waiting for the woman to attack again, he grabbed one of the army chutes and barely affixed it to his back before he ran down the open back deck and exited the plane.

:(:):(:):

Jumping out of the back of a crashing C-17 was the equivalent of BASE jumping into a den of lions infected with rabies. When Clint hit the ground nearly fifty stories down, he was already unconscious from those things he'd run into along the way. Flag poles, ledges, and fire escapes were unkind to the pilot and impeccable marksman meant to spare the world of a horrid death. And still, even as the destroyed plane littered the landscape in chunks of fire, the World Maker churned. It's deadly band of destruction pushing out, out, out until nearly half of metropolis was lying in ruin.

Clint awoke in time to spare his own death. He was close to the line, too close. Before he was even aware enough to know which way to run, he was at his feet already. He heard a woman screaming. He wandered in a daze.

Maybe it was that reporter, Lois was her name. But as he followed the sounds he realized it was just an ordinary citizen. She'd been driving at some point, trying to race the gravity cloud out of the city. An SUV sized piece of fighter wing had her pinned between a poll and the rest of the fallen jet. She thrashed her hands against the tangle of metal. the pilot was dead still strapped into his seat. She was trapped.

Clint came awake to many thoughts confusing his mind. He realized he was bleeding. He'd cut his eye somehow. The woman needed to be rescued, now, or else she'd be dead when the next pulse came. Clint had to keep running, find shelter.

He turned to her car. He braced himself on the hood and pulled at the wing to get a large enough opening that the woman could crawl out.

"Move back, get back, I need to kick the glass!" He instructed.

"GET ME OUT OF HERE! Please help me, get me out!"

"Just hang on, move back." Clint kicked out the window. He still had the parachute strapped to his chest. As he reached into the car and helped pull her out, he thumbed the buckles on his chest to get the chute off.

"Come on, we've got to run!" He grabbed her hand, shrugging off the rest of the gear as they dropped off the car hood and started across the road way. She trailed behind him. She was wearing hot pink high heels and black leggings. They slowed her down. Enough for Clint to stop and turn. He was prepared to pick her up and carry her the rest of the way, wherever that meant.

Her hand was in his. The world had already begun to slow once more. Clint knew they weren't going to outrun the next gravity flux, but he tried. Oh how he tried. She was still trailing behind him at arm's length. He was shouting at her, turned to pick her up but that is when the gravity flux ripped her away from him. Her painted nails left five perfect scratches in his hand. He had a ring in his palm, it must have come from her finger. He watched from the road, mesmerized as his eyes followed her mannequin movements in the air. She floated overhead, just out of reach. He knew the inevitable was coming. He knew she'd slam back down, and there was nothing he could do to stop it. They screamed, almost at the same time, and her body hit the asphalt.

Not all of her had been crushed at once. Her upper half was almost normal. Her head looking up to the treacherous sky that had pulled her up. From mid-thigh, to the tip of her shoes was another matter. They were flat. Like two long rolls pressed into a pizza. She was essentially only half a human. Her lower half being gorily unrecognizable.

For a time she said nothing, as if her brain was trying to work out exactly what had just occurred, but it wasn't more than a few seconds before she began to scream.

Clint reached for her, tried to drag her, but the legs couldn't move. They had become married with the asphalt. Two piles of mush that were once human muscle and bone. Just moving her was tearing her body in half. Clint didn't know what to do. Her voice shrieked and wailed. The invisible claw that had stolen her the first time reached out and snatched her again. The breath sucked from her chest as she was heaved into the air. The Avenger was left on the street with the flattened remains of her legs.

A voice rose in the back of his mind. It told him to run. He had to run.

_**RUN!**_

Clint pushed to his feet, he turned and sprinted. He ran for his very life. He ran from the sounds of strangled voice of the woman he didn't know. He ran from the high pitched _pop_ her body made when it hit the concrete again. This time none of her was sparred, and the world was filled with the horrible quiet of her silenced screams.

Clint tried to look at the street signs and get his bearings. He had little on-the-ground knowledge of Metropolis and what he did know was breezed by him via Colonel Hardy during the brief flight. In essence he was probably running in circles, like a rat caught in a maze. The creeping horror continued to eat at him with every step. The knowledge that his running would be useless. The world was actually ending.

Clint searched his immediate person for a cell phone. He had a single lifeline. A direct contact number to Tony Stark and all the Avengers back at the Tower. If his mission went south, if he needed an immediate EVAC, Tony would be geared and waiting. Clint found the phone and dialed the number. He was surprised, horrified, when he heard no dial tone on the other end. He stopped for a moment. He leaned against a bent telephone pole and looked at the phone in his hands. The gravity line was half a block behind him and closing fast. He couldn't afford to stop now, but if he couldn't reach Tony, then what did it matter how hard he ran?

The phone signal was active. The satellite was linked correctly. Clint dialed again, but this time he saw the error message that scrolled across the screen. No towers. Every cell tower in Metropolis was being scrambled by whatever the World Maker had done.

Clint felt a piece of him curl into itself until it was extinguished. As his eyes looked back over the destruction of the city he knew exactly the name for that little piece of himself. It was Hope. Hope, for him, was dead.

From the depths of this revelation came another. He looked at the roadway he'd been running along, only to realize he was trapped by a wall of debris. The two side alleys were already blocked off by the approaching line of destruction. He wasn't alone. Two men stood behind him beside the debris. Clint moved toward them, as far from the approaching wave as possible. It was then he realized how the men had come here themselves. There was a woman stuck in that wall of debris. She was shaking, filthy, and terrified. And still the expanding line of invisible force continued to approach. Unaware of the lives it was destroying, the otherworldly creation continued forward. Destroying everything in its path with the relentless climb upwards into the free air, then crash downwards into the cracking concrete and asphalt. Looking out when the world settled, Clint could see clear to the other side of Metropolis unimpeded.

"Perry?" the woman in the rubble whispered.

Neither of the two men replied. Standing together, the four looked out over the distance and quietly waited for the end to come.

* * *

please continued to "Gravity" part 2!


	2. Chapter 2

**Moments 3**  
**Gravity Part 2  
**

_by, PeechTao_

Barton hadn't realized his eyes were closed. He was waiting, like the world waited, for the final end to slam into him. But when it didn't come he was debating whether or not he should open his eyes again at all. His chest was tight. Apparently he was holding his breath as well. His body pressed back against the impossible wall of debris separating him from temporary safety. The next wave should have hit him. He could feel the change in the air, like the molecules of oxygen feeding his lungs were being stolen away from him one by one. Death was the only future he could see. After all he'd been through in life nothing was facing him now.

He thought about Natasha. Her body embraced by the leather jumpsuit, emblazoned with a SHIELD logo. He thought about Tony. The night before he left, Iron Man handed him half a bottle of Vodka which the two split over half the night. Steve Rogers, shaking his hand, and then pulling him close. The whisper of good-luck, passing to him. Banner reciprocated. And that was all. No one said goodbye. They didn't need to. Clint Barton was coming back. He always came back.

There was a high-pitched whistle. Like a rocket flying through the air right over their heads. Clint's body tensed. It would be worse if he was tense, he told himself. If his body was flung up he could break his bones by merely being so taught. His shoulders would be weakest. They would dislocate, followed by his elbows. His knees would snap. His legs would break.

_Easy,_ he whispered to himself. His shoulders relaxed. He was prepared for death.

The air felt thicker and at the same time thinner. It was heavy with the smell of death and destruction. The air was thin, like being in the highest point of the atmosphere before one broke into space.

The high pitched whistle again. The crash of the floating objects impacting the ground. Waiting for the _woosh_ of air. The one that would take Clint for his final flight. But it didn't come.

_It didn't come._

Clint's eyes blinked open. A flash of orange lit up the sky. A shock wave exploded. When it hit the four, it had almost dissipated. The gravity flux stopped. The ship ahead of them began to sway, it fell. All their fears of death crumbled with it. For a time none of them could decide what to do. Clint, Perry, the other man, and the woman all stood and looked at the distance and waited for something. They weren't sure what that something was, but it felt almost wrong to move right away.

Clint thought of that alien Hardy told him about. The high-pitched sound flew overhead again and Clint seemed to know that it belonged to the alien. Friend they said. Most likely a friend. The only thing saving them.

All at once the world began to work again. The two men turned to help free the woman. Clint lent a hand to their effort. It was short work with three of them. Clint had to get out of the city. He'd commandeer a car to do it. He needed to find a cell tower. He needed to call Tony to get him. Once the girl was free, Clint began to walk. He headed back into the destroyed city. He got to the first side street and took it to the end. He would loop back through the next junction and reach some part of Metropolis that was still intact. The first car he found, he'd hotwire.

"Captain?"

Clint turned at the word. He wasn't sure why at first. Surrounded on both sides by humans ground into the asphalt or crushed under concrete, he was the only living thing along the abandoned stretch. He turned around.

A person that looked like a man was standing in the road. He wore a tight suit, blue and textured. A yellow and red S was on his chest. Clint recognized his face from the mission file. This was the alien. He pulled through after all.

"Captain?" the person repeated. It was a question.

"Not a captain." Clint said.

"Forgive me. You were flying the plane. It was a natural assumption."

Clint nodded as if he understood.

"Thank you. I'm glad to see you are all right."

Clint looked on either side of him. The dead were everywhere.

"I have to go now." he said. "I have to finish it."

"Good luck with that." Clint said. "I'm going home."

:(:):(:):

Morning. It was early. The sun wasn't up yet. Clint had reached the car he imagined would appear in the roadway. He drove outside the city. He drove into the next. And then the next. He thought he should place the call he'd intended to make. It was the only reason he was driving at all. He thought about how far Metropolis was from Manhattan. It wasn't too far. It would take him half a day, perhaps more. If he called Tony he'd be home within hour.

Clint decided not to call Tony.

His phone rang from his pocket. Clint put it on silent. Then he shut it off and dropped it out the car window. He couldn't see the others now. He didn't want to speak to them and have his face show all that horror he'd just encountered. The drive would be his time to collect himself. It was morning the following day when he reached Manhattan

The secretary behind the desk of Stark Tower seemed surprised to see him. She shuffled with her headset, pulling it down from her face and half rising in her seat to greet him. Clint hardly looked at her. He continued to the private elevator tucked at the end of the hall. A doorman pressed the button for him and offered to take him up. Clint shook his head and entered the elevator alone.

When he reached the floor of the Avengers living quarters, he could hear sounds from the large flat screen television. Some reporters were going over what was left of Metropolis. Others were talking about the Indian Ocean. It was like the reports that followed New York after the Chitori invasion. Some praised the mysterious alien dressed in blue and red, others spoke about the horrors of having an alien living amongst humans.

_Have they forgotten Thor already?_ Clint wondered to himself.

He had no mission pack to drop off in his room this time. Everything he owned that followed him on the mission was lost somewhere over Metropolis. The elevator doors were quiet. So no one heard him coming until he was already in the living room.

Tony was in his chair, leaning toward the television screen with his hands under his chin. His expression wasn't hard to read. Steve was behind him, standing. The rug looked worn from where he'd been pacing. Natasha was absent. Banner was on the couch, sitting beside Pepper. His face showed the mask of horror that even years of training couldn't wipe away. Thor also was absent.

When Clint rounded the hallway partition and stood for all to see, the room became a flurry of movement. Steve, superhuman, was faster than the rest. He rushed toward Clint, but stopped before embracing him. His mouth was moving but unintelligible words were dropping out of it.

"Clint!" Banner exclaimed with Tony. Pepper's arms were around the marksman's neck. He was so numb, he could hardly feel the pressure of her body against his.

Pepper pulled away. She was concerned. More so since he wasn't speaking to them.

Clint had a hard time focusing. He realized after a while of standing around them that they must have been speaking normally and it was he who couldn't understand them. He looked at Pepper for a time. He imagined her floating above him. Twisting like a dancer through the air, and then slamming down into the carpet while her crushed body expelled all the blood it carried. That hope he felt return to him at one time, it was gone again. He felt his body go weak. Strong arms grabbed his middle as Clint fell. He wanted Natasha.

_:(:):(:):_

It was past morning. His clock was gone from beside his bed. Most likely Steve's suggestion. Arms were still around him. This time the touch was softer. He knew who they belonged to. She seemed to sense he was awake. The weight on the bed shifted until Natasha was leaning over him. Their eyes met. Could she see the emptiness in his soul?

"Clint?"

He picked up a hand, pressing it against her cheek.

"Need to talk about it?" she asked.

He shook his head left to right.

"Can you say anything?"

Clint thought about that. For some reason he didn't want to. He'd seen a lot in his time with SHIELD. Even with the Avengers. More horrors he encountered before either. Yet this? He stayed quiet. He wasn't going to speak. Not now. Not for a while.

"You don't have to." She told him. "Thor and I left. We were going to find you. We looked all over the city. I thought . . . we thought the worst. Did you lose your phone?"

Clint turned his eyes away. He looked out the window. The city was still and quite out there. It was dark. Another day was coming.

Natasha rested her head against his chest. "I'm here." She said.

Clint moved his arms until they crossed her back. He squeezed her against him. He held her tight. He pressed his face into Natasha's hair and inhaled, trying to gather what being alive meant again.

:(:):(:):

The balcony was his favorite place. It was in his nature to be found there, brooding, looking out at the city stretched below and all around. Above him the populated stars bore down on him like thousands of twinkling eyes. Were more Kryptonians out there hiding? Was there worse?

The next day had dragged on. He hadn't left his bed then. Natasha came and went. Steve cooked him breakfast, but Clint didn't eat. Lunch came. Pepper this time. She stayed for a while looking at him with a fresh tray of something sitting on the bed. He didn't speak to her. She didn't take it as a slight, but it concerned her still. Natasha for dinner. His favorite delicacy. Bacon wrapped sea scallops with pineapple chunks. In the years that followed he would always associated the smell of that salty bacon and sweet pineapple with the horrifying memories of _that day_. Forever the day Clint Barton flew the mission to destroy the World Maker would be referred of only as "that day". He could tolerate nothing other.

He'd escaped to the balcony that night. Vacating his bed for the first time since returning home. He breathed in the air. Not too thick, not to thin. The air of Earth. He chewed his bottom lip and felt his shoulders shake.

"Captain?"

Clint looked forward at the sound of the voice. He didn't have to guess who it belonged to now.

The alien was floating there, over fifty stories up. His red cape was flowing with the breeze. Superman the public dubbed him. The S on his chest inspired it.

"Clint Barton." Superman corrected. So, he'd learned the agent's name.

Clint nodded his head a little.

"It's over." He said, as if he had to. "I wanted . . . I needed to thank you."

Clint supposed that he should be surprised, but he felt nothing.

"You saved her. Lois I mean. It meant a lot to me. I had to thank you. Colonel Hardy, Lois, Dr. Rolfin, most of the crew, they thanked me, but I know I had little to do with their survival. I owe you; this world owes you, Clint Barton. You warned them all before the worst of it. They were able to get off the plane."

Clint didn't feel like the world owed him anything. In reality, he felt like a bigger failure today than when he betrayed his post and became possessed by Loki. He didn't complete the mission. He couldn't keep the plane steady. He didn't even get off the one shot he was commissioned to make. And he failed to save the one woman he found along the way.

"A lot of people are calling me Superman."

Clint looked into his eyes.

"They don't know what this symbol means." He indicated the S on his chest. "It means hope. That's all I am. Finding Lois, alive and well, you gave _me_ hope, Clint."

Hope. He thought that little emotion had died in him. Died the minute he was trapped with the four other lost souls in that abandoned city street.

The door slid open behind him. Tony was standing there with Steve beside him. They both looked dangerously at Superman. They knew he was no threat, but that didn't mean they trusted him with their friend.

Superman nodded briefly to both of them. "I was thanking him. Agent Barton did me an indescribable service the other day."

Tony's hand made its way to Clint's shoulder. "He's an Avenger. He does what he can, when he can. And sometimes he does more than that."

Superman shook hands with Steve. They had mutual strong grips. "Captain Rogers. A pleasure. I grew up reading about you."

"Nice to have another one on our side." Steve said.

"Mr. Stark." Superman shook his hand as well. In a moment, he was gone again the way he'd come.

"Clint? You gonna be all right?" Stark asked quietly.

"Hope." Clint said. He turned back toward his room. The little light inside of him extinguished with a fist of iron suddenly began to flicker again. He was going to be ok. It was going to take some time. Time he knew he'd be given. But he knew he'd get past this. He had hope and with that hope a resolute assurance.

Steve and Tony didn't know what he meant, but at least it was a word. They followed him inside, checking over their shoulders for a reappearance of the newest addition to the defenses of Earth.

* * *

The end!

Update: I'm creating a facebook fan page for my fanfic stories. there i will be posting my photo inspirations, the designs i've drawn for the Avenger's living space, and many many more little insights to my creative process. I'm hoping to make it a fun little read-a-long with my books. Please enjoy!


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